The Miner and the Tradesman挖矿人与商人
by The Cuboid
Summary: Before, she was the powerful consort and he was the lowly missionary. After a century, Yao was a poor worker and Ivan a wealthy trader. [RusChu] Historical mentions.
1. Prologue

/

Prologue

Canton Port, China

Wang Yao dragged himself down the muddy road, sighing at the slow pace he was making.

As he was unemployed, he hoped that he would be hired by his uncle who he was then trying to reach for. He knew that the chances were slight, but survival counted the small possibilities. Three years as potter apprentice taught him the skills of making beautiful things out of plain earth. Nonetheless, this marksmanship that was once appreciated by people all around had lost its standings. People no longer had the leisure to look at art nor the money to buy them. The Opium war had robbed China of all its prosperity. The economy of was bad, prices of products was dangerously low, the lack of fields failed to sustain food for its people. Facing the dire of hunger and unemployment, China was a potpourri of rebellions, sickness and death.

Yao was just one of the many victims in this mess. He counted himself lucky to have a wealthy relative who could help- they said there was nothing thicker than a bond of the same blood.

Family bonds led Yao to be adopted by his uncle after he was orphaned by the death of both parents, he owed to it for all the care and decent education received.

But with the guilt of being an extra burden when the uncle had children of his own to feed, Yao proposed independence. His uncle introduced him to an apprenticeship through connections, it was the last favour–Yao promised he would take from the good man.

Unfortunately, he was in desperate need of work, his survival instinct conflicted with his principles.

How he hoped an alternate option would appear out of nowhere.

After manoeuvring through the difficult tracks, Yao finally came to a bustling town, the busyness was generated by trading of its sea port.

Yao spotted a modest eatery and decided to eat there. There were not many customers given the time of the day, and he could faintly hear the two men sitting near him who were discussing avidly about the latest predicament of their country.

The first man complained about the Manchu court's rule, obscenities accompanied his discontentment. He prided himself as a true, hot-blooded Han Chinese by expressing hatred towards the sovereignty of an alien tribe.

Being the cynical youngster he was, Yao noted the _queue_ wore by the self-declared _true_ Han, it was ironic that he wore the ultimate symbol of submersion while declaring himself as otherwise.

In contrast of his behaviour, his companion was more rational, he tried to pacify and warned against the dangers of talking behind the rulers back. "The walls have ears, Ngaou. Better that you stop here."

Then he shrewdly switched topics: "I say, why don't you put the blame on the whites instead? The terrible foreigners were the ones who brought opium to our people and made a mess of the country. "

This had flicked on Yao's intrigue, he was curious of the world outside China especially of the white men who terrorized _the Son of Heaven_. Rumours of a greater power not only awed him, they brought many speculations. From the talk of former colleagues, Yao learned that the Westerners had big ships and guns that were fast to load, he also absorbed the details about the unfair treaties the Manchu court was forced to sign. Among them, a treaty was notable for giving Westerners authority to escape from regular jurisdiction of Chinese laws, which meant that Westerners could bully and kill Chinese yet were not to be judged.

Yao raged for the treatment of Chinese but he knew it was a dog eat dog world out there, and he felt pity and fear for all Chinese, including himself.

"Indeed. Indeed. We should not avert our eyes from the cruelty of the whites. They do nothing but harm China," said Ngao.

"I am happy that you agree. But unfortunately, your judgement is clouded by bias." The man shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"The whites have done something good to us too. They offer China a chance."

"Eh?" Yao was as confused as Ngao, the horrible foreigners offer them chances?"Get to the point, my friend. You know that I am not too bright."

"You see, the whites made the court sign a treaty—"The rest of the talk was the turning point of Yao's life, he learned the existence of a treaty that let Chinese work overbroad. Working on what he heard, it did not took him long to grasp that it may be an answer to his joblessness. He stopped chewing his food as if the information will slip away if he did not concentrate with the task of listening.

Yao listened eagerly as the man continued to delve into the results of the treaty, he told what knew of the _coolie_ system which was spawned from it. "People bound themselves to the contract of _coolie_ tradesmen who offer them transport in exchange of labour. You see, their service to the _coolie_ tradesmen would end if they repaid their debts."

"I knew there were many peasants flogging themselves but not the details…"Ngao said.

"There more to it. Do you know why so many are willing? No? Actually, the greatest attraction to the deal was that freed _coolies_ can develop their own business overbroad and thrive from it. The fact was proven by many coolie slaves who made name of themselves."

Yao almost choked on the food hearing the prospects. It was a golden opportunity shoved his way, just how could he remain calm? He gave in to coughing fits, his hands trembled excitedly in reach of the teacup.

Many destitute Chinese had betted on this. Why shouldn't he be one too?

Soothing himself with the drink, Yao phrased his question and demanded the courage for asking it.

"Excuse me, sirs. How can one be a _coolie_?"

Two men scrutinized at the stranger who asked them an abrupt question, Ngao opened his mouth to reply but he was halted by his companion.

"You need recommendation for the job, kid."

"Of whose?"

"We can help you with that. But the initial payment of your registration will be ours."

Yao shrugged. The man was attempting to extort him.

But could he let the chance go? Was there anyone else that would help him for free?

The answer to both was no. He doubted anyone would help him without compensation on his part. Besides, the suggestion of work was too alluring to deny. There was nothing to lose too as the man did not suggest him to pay now.

"Kid, there is no free meal in this world." Knowing his companion's motive, Ngao urged Yao to agree, but unlike his friend's businesslike tone, his was a giveaway of greed.

"I agree to your condition," replied Yao.

"Follow us." The men could not resist their shrewd smiles.

/

Yao suppressed his suspicion as he followed them into the crisscross of alleyways, he resisted of asking why they were not using the main roads.

"Don't look so grim. I doubt there is anything on you for us to rob."

Yao blushed. How the man did knew what he was thinking? Was the anxiety written on his face?

Their pace was slow, the dirty roads stank of rot and urine, huge rats roamed the place. Yao wondered where they were heading and the distinct smell of fish and salt answered his question, they were nearing a port.

"See, we brought you to the right place as promised."Ngao's plump finger pointed at the long line of pheasants spanning from the edge of the land to the dockyard. Despair and poverty marked their faces, they all wore shabby tunics and dirty cotton pants. Yao winced, he was soon to be stuck between the mass of sweaty bodies.

"Sun is bright, it's a breezy day. I expect they set sail soon," said Ngao's friend. The huge ship swayed left and right under the whim of rolling waves, white sails undulated in the gentle wind, indeed the weather was perfect for departure.

"Let's hurry then," said Yao. The men nodded and led him to the lone dockyard that stood out conspicuously on the barren land, they met a man with a black book and pen in hand.

"I brought a volunteer," Ngao said in the Cantonese dialect. Yao spoke bad Cantonese but he understood it as well as one could for his uncle used the dialect with his Canton concubine.

The man smirked. "You sure he volunteered?" he turned to Yao. "Did those men trick you into this?"

Yao did not try to defend the men, the two men also acted indifferent and left as soon as the money was received. He watched as their backs disappeared from view.

"What are you doing? Get into the damn line!" Yao was given a harsh push, he fell to the hard ground due to sheer momentum.

"Hey!" Yao protested in anger.

The offender smile was a satisfactory one, his job was a dull-marking the number of coolies the company obtained every day—and he was glad that he was presented someone to taunt on.

Yao received a punch on the face, it dislodged a tooth from his gums, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "Shut up dog. You signed up for this, so don't complain."

"That doesn't give you the right to beat me!" Yao cowered from the raised fist but that did not stop him from retorting defiantly, he felt confused and angry at the mistreatment. Tears for injustice and self-pity blurred his vision.

"Hahaha! This is priceless." The man laughed on. " _That doesn't give you the right to beat me_." He mimicked the words with a whiny tone.

Yao caressed the wounds on his knees and face, they hurt but the humiliation hurt more. It took all the restrain he had to stop doing the same to the cruel man, but Yao knew the consequences and its futility. Unceremoniously, he left to queue up.

But the man persisted: "Hey you there, watch him. He's a troublemaker." He ordered the nearby guards.

/

The people in the port were herded onto the ship like a pack of obedient sheep, there was no sign of flurry, anguish brood over them. Yao would find sympathy if not that he too, was in the same situation as they were. Worse off, he had a swollen face, freshly scrapped knees and labelled troublemaker.

The midday sun shone agonizingly on the bald areas of his head. Yao decided he will let the hair grow out as soon as he left China, he realized that he will be soon free of Manchu's jurisdiction.

Was Chinese overbroad allowed to cut their queue?

The weight of his decision of settling in an unknown land dawn him, it meant freedom and opportunity, but also a certain risk and to leave everything behind. Perhaps he was too reckless, would he miss his homeland? So far, he did not feel so, he was too occupied with the anticipation of a bright future. Besides, there was nobody that Yao was especially attached to. He had visited his uncle's household during the New Year and felt alienated to be amongst them, but he might write to them to inform his whereabouts.

Yao finally reached the gangplank at sundown, being the last of the pack, the ship left soon as he was secured onboard.

Where was this ship heading? He had no chance to ask. Well, what can he do even if he knew?

/

 **For those who read the story before, I made some adjustment here and there. I am very very sorry. Thank you for reading.**

 **I would like to credit my beta reader, Smol . Cake, for helping me with the fic.**

 **Now for the historical aspects:**

 **1-There are two separate timelines for this story: The 18th century, during Emperor Yong Zeng reign (1722-1735) and a century or so later after the second opium war (1860).**

 **2-The** **_queue_** **was a specific male hairstyle worn by the Manchu people, later imposed on the Han** **Chinese** **during the Qing dynasty. The hairstyle consisted of the hair on the front of the head being shaved off above the temples every ten days and the rest of the hair braided into a long ponytail. Imagine China half bald…**


	2. Journey

/

Journey

Ship, South China Sea

Yao lost count of the days. Was it the second month? The first? A few weeks?

He did not know.

He and the others lived like packed sardines in a confined space, there was no way to discern between the days and nights.

But that was least of the problems _coolies_ faced, after living so long under unhygienic condition, the interior of the ship smelt of dung and vomit, sickness ran rife. Many were dead, Yao lost count, the sailors would come every few days to remove dead bodies and throw them into the sea. He felt no compassion towards them, for he too, might join the poor souls.

 _I wish you a better luck in your next life_ , was all he could give them.

"Would we die without any acknowledgement?" Yao voiced his anxiety and a stranger answered: "It's not too soon for us."

The prediction came true for the stranger but not for Yao.

In the suffocating darkness, Yao longed to see the sun again. Unfortunately, the span of their journey was abysmal. He could only wait.

Waiting. He hated waiting. He remembered feeling the same disdain before.

When was that?

Yao wanted felt the answer was hiding at a corner of his memory. Slowly, he reached out to grasp them.

/

 _Wang Yue, known by the title of Yue fei was feeding the carps in the pond, it was one of the activities she resorted to for occupying her long days. Like all the other consorts of Emperor Yong Zheng, she was obliged to wait patiently for the Emperor's summon._

 _Her appointed eunuch,_ _Tsiang, entered the garden, carrying a box in his hand'_ _._

 _She raised her guard as she was warned beforehand to be careful of these grudging creatures. They were looked down upon by even the lowliest peasant, a being of no gender, so day by day, their hatred accumulates and they harmed those around them for these pent up frustration._

" _Tsiang. What is in it?"_

" _It's a pair of silkworms, mating, my mistress," replied the eunuch._

" _What are you planning?"She tested the eunuch, gauging his motive, trying not to let the strong smell of ammonia affect her. For eunuchs had no control over their urinary system, they could only wear a thick piece of cloth over the lost genitals to absorb their urine. This was the source of their stench and had it stemmed the saying: "Smell like a eunuch"._

 _Wong Yue felt ashamed of her repulsion but feigning ignorance was the best she could do._

" _Your ladies-in-waiting told me that you are in a bad mood these days. Playing with silkworms are the consorts' favourite pastime."_

 _Tsiang was fairly knowledgeable with the goings of the palace. It was one of the reasons he was appointed by Wong Yue to be her closest advisor besides being more ambitious compared to other eunuchs who were already welding great authority._

" _They are really cute. Thank you." She looked into the two happy worms, though enclosed in a small wooden box, they had each other._

" _That's the wrong way to play. Here let me."The eunuch pulled the two warm apart in the middle of their ritual, and they bled profusely from the separation._

" _What are you doing? Stop it!" Yue's voice trembled, shock and rage fuelled her words._

" _The purpose for bringing you these silkworms is to let you torment them. Picture the female worm being one of the consorts in bed with the emperor, he planting his seeds into her, while you sit here, still waiting for that chance. Don't you want to kill them?" His disappointment was obvious, he had tried his best to cheer his miserable mistress up, but she had scolded him instead._

 _Tsiang had high hopes for Yue Fei. She was a classic beauty, youth glowered from her perfectly carved face, with pale skin and a petite stature. Her name, given by the emperor's mother, fit her for she was as beautiful as_ 'yue' _: the moon._

 _But despite the privilege, Yue was headstrong, she refused to bribe the chief eunuch for a chance in the emperor's chamber. To the inpatient eunuch who wished for higher status, his mistress indifference disgusted him, he wanted to hit her every time he saw her tending her garden or writing poems instead of forming plans to seduce the emperor. He was sure that she was forgotten in the vastness of the emperor's harem._

" _I see." Yue slapped the young eunuch. She was upset because the Tsiang had thought her to be such a cruel woman. "Go!" She dismissed him, her eyes full of animosity._

 _Yue regretted once she saw the tears streaking down on his face, touching upon the red marks her slap made._

 _She wanted to apologize but her mouth was sealed._

 _Tsiang gathered himself and left._

" _Don't go." Yue heard herself whisper._

 _She envied the fishes in the pond that were swimming without a care of the world, unperturbed by the commotion. She fed the fishes with the silkworm, it was better than letting them bleed to death._

 _The fishes rushed forward to their meals willingly._

 _/_

Yao had very strange dreams of experiences he had not had before, they were vague but repetitive. Gradually, Yao was able to piece the puzzle together. He recalled a lovely garden in his dreams, in the middle of it was a pond of carp fish. His uncle's garden was smaller, but the garden of his dreams reminded him of it, the same species of flowers could be found in both, the Zǐluólán _,_ Chinese Violets. The flower was a common weed, and the variety in the gardens had white petals and two styles dotted with violet stigmas.

When he was little, Yao found the violets at a corner of the flowerbed when he explored the garden, since then, his greatest leisure was to stare at the flowers. Strangely, he was attracted only to the violets but not the other prettier flowers, and to him, the small weed is the most beautiful.

/

The sea was calm, the tangy salt air erased the stench from their bodies, cheerful sunrays he had so often dreamt of shone down on them mockingly.

Yao was one of the lucky survivors, he jostled through the mass to have a glimpse at the harbour – it was his first time on deck since they had left the Canton port.

The rough journey had left its mark, the transform on Yao's physique was fairly obvious, his eyes were sunken, ribs protruded through his exposed torso. Every survivor was the same, sufferings evident.

Yao looked on as some sailors threw the last of the corpses overboard – those unlucky ones had died just before they reached land. He mourned for the pitiful fate of these strangers but cannot help to feel relieved not to be among them.

Yao also felt proud to survive, he wanted the credit for holding on for such a long time, though, he felt ashamed of being so when witnessing the unfortunate people who died.

Packed against bodies, Yao was stabilized from falling as a sudden jolt of wave that caught the boat. He stared at the approaching land, vessels of all sizes swarmed the waters around it.

Whatever this place was, Yao future was with it.

/

 **To clarify things a little, Russia will be appearing in the next chapter. I am trying to establish an introduction to both characters and the settings before they meet. I know I am long winded. Sorry.**

 **Their past lives will be told in the manifestations of dreams, albeit confusing, please bear with me.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Historical Notes:**

 **1-The term eunuch was for men who were castrated before they could serve in the women living areas in the Chinese court. Such cruelty was to make sure they could not impregnate the emperor's women, for he himself was the sole planter of** _ **the seeds**_ **.**

 **2-The title Fei (** **妃** **)was well respected. I intend Wong Yue to be a fictional character that came from an honorable Manchu tribe, so she earned that title. But the emperor had his own choice for which woman he wanted to spend the night with. They mostly leave these arrangements to eunuchs if they did not have a particular favorite. So in this case, titles are mostly irrelevant and bribery was indeed the key for consorts to gain favor.**


	3. Chapter 3

/

Troubled Past

Perak, Malaya

Ivan Braginski was riding on a s _ampan_ on the Perak River as he was in a terrible hurry; the route took less time than riding the rickshaws.

Aware of the dangerous crocodiles that lurked in the muddy river, Ivan hired an experienced dark skinned Malay boatman and reluctantly paid him extra fee to guarantee a safe ride.

Ivan did not believe in the superstitions spread by the Chinese miners who thought the natives of the land were the only ones who could handle the so call river deities. He had only wanted the man to take care of those oversized lizards with deadly strong jaws and was sure that the money would buy his expertise.

Both sides of the banks were the impregnable green of trees until the boatman rowed near a village. Ivan watched as a violent scene unravelled before him, a sickening display where a lone Chinese woman was shoved towards the direction of the river by a large crowd—perhaps, by those who were once her neighbours.

"Whore!"

"Kill the adulteress!"

"No she shall suffer first! Beat her up."

Instead of hitting her, hands competed with each other to grope the woman in inappropriate the limited number of Chinese women in this country, these men were obviously sexually deprived. Thus, the swarm of Chinese men took this as a chance to touch the woman.

Ivan thought these men to be worse than animals. Their chest were bare, cotton pants dirtied with soil, their unruly appearance making him associate them with with inhumane beasts.

"We should drown her in a pig basket. We are to comply to follow the rules laid down by our Cantonese forefathers," a villager said in Cantonese, a dialect which Ivan had learned to listen as adapting in Malaya.

Ivan despised the fatuous remark, criticizing how the man had foolishly believed in the righteousness of his barbaric customs.

"Right. Drown her in the pig basket!"

The simple agreement invoked support from the others, the same chorus resounded throughout the crowd. Ivan saw the flurry of action as the people moved to find the promised item.

He was sympathetic to the woman's fate, but he could not save her, praying for her soul was the best he could do.

Was she mourning for herself? Was she crying? Begging? Or had she had despaired to the point of showing indifference to the treatment?

Ivan could not see her face.

"Drown her! Drown her!" said the hateful villagers.

Ivan loathed the ill sounding chants and urged the boatman to row away as quickly as he could; the hubbub was a painful reminder of his broken past.

It was such a long time ago, but the vivid images could still be projected clearly in his mind. After being exposed under these nightmares after such a long time, Ivan developed had an indifference towards them. Though, he would never let his guard down. He refused to let his carelessness disarm him and would avoid dangerous reminders of such memories.

/

They were peasants, serfs—which is another word for slaves. What's the difference?

Russia had always been recognized as a backward country when compared to its Western neighbours. The industrial revolution in Europe had inculcated a new mindset in its people while in comparison, Russians remained shackled to its simple and cruel concept of hierarchy. Rule or to be ruled, this would be a condensed version of the country's obstinate adherence.

They had little freedom, their every right abused under a system similar to the feudalism of Europe in the middle ages, governed by the much detested village commune and the landlord.

Since Ivan had learned the meaning of riots, one was already brewing in the midst of the unhappy adults, waiting for an appropriate catalyst to awaken it into reality.

A chance was given for the pent up discontentment to make its mark: the village priests had stolen from the villagers again. Some people decided that they had passed their limit of toleration, while some, was appealed to a passive acceptance—or rather, the fear of punishment made them to obey.

Though, it was labelled riot, all the angry mob did was to march towards the landlord's house in protest of the despicable clergy. Unfortunately for them, the landlord, being the typical cruel authority figure he was, did not undertake the actions—which would harm his relationship with the church—as requested by his serfs. In the contrary, he favoured his ties with the clergy so much that he had arranged the protest's conspirators and majority of its participants for punishment.

/

 _It was a frosty winter, the cracking of ice under bast shoes was heard as the convicts made their queue to the platform. With the exception of a few, the serfs rarely struggled or made any other attempts to evade the execution. One by one, they let the guards_ _guide them like a flock of mindless cattle._

 _The other serfs in Ivan's village watched on as the executioner grabbed the whipping device –- known as a knout—more tightly and one by one, he flogged it onto the men's back without mercy. The spectacle was regarded by the audiences with fear—the fear of becoming its next victim. Ivan was not an exception. With every lashing, he covered his small ears in futility to prevent himself from hearing horrible sounds: broken bones and the anguished cries that came after it._

 _Some men endured the initial torment without screaming, but the bravado will finally waned once they knew the true agony the knout would bring. 80 lashes was an endless number for those under the penalty, 20 lashes would continue unless their lives had given in before the number was fulfilled._

 _Near the end of the line stood Ivan's father; whether he was the real perpetrator of the riot as the landowners accused him of, it didn't matter. All that was important is that it was his father who was being taken to the same platform where other men suffered a terrible fate._

 _They tied his father's hands above his head and being taller than the_ average men _, he did not look like he was being hung as the others did. Ivan's father gave a small, pointless struggle but the cold had robbed him of all energy; he was shivering from the immense cold that haunted the skin even under thick fur coats._

 _The punisher raised his knout with laxity, tired after beating so many men. Albeit the deviant enjoyment the man found in it, his sadistic hunger for other's agonized scream did had a limit._

 _But then, he saw that Ivan's father would be his last. Acknowledging the fact, he adjusted himself for another sets of merciless lashing._

 _Ivan face paled as the man attacked his father's back like a bloodthirsty beast, the hard part of the knout hit his father's back louder than a pounding fist would. Though he was young, Ivan could see the immense difference of the treatment used by the executioner towards his father._

 _Suddenly, the abhorred landowner raised his hands as a sign to stop the lashing. The fat man wore an ornate outfit of padded layers and expensive fur, much to the envy of the serfs who had only rags that barely helped with the cold._

 _He tugged his beard vainly while addressing to the crowd, Ivan could see the villager's animosity towards the man and the half-hearted attempt to suppress it. The rebelling faces of woman who had seen their families hurt ignited flair of hope in Ivan; his father might get out of this plight if a real riot had started then, the landlord and his guards would be mow down with their superior numbers._

 _The landlord was either clueless or ignored the obvious hatred._

 _Much to Ivan's detest, he pointed his pudgy finger accusingly at his father. "Don't you hate this man? He is the reason your husbands, your sons, your neighbours and your fathers suffer. Such disgrace to ever doubt the church! Say that you will never be blinded by his false accusations again. But no matter, no matter, he will need to pay the price of the troubles he brought with his worthless life, yes?"_

 _Reluctantly, the villagers followed his orders and murmured an agreement. It did not satisfy the landowner, in fact, the lack of fear and seriousness had served to anger him further._

"" _Ungrateful wretches, what a bunch of worthless people you are. God has given you your position as a serf. If he intended more for you, you would not be born to be what you are today. Be contented and do only what is required for someone of your status or we will take away what we have spared you," said the landlord. He indicated at the helpless men who had survived their punishment, threatening the serfs to take the hint._

 _._

 _The women serfs panicked with the promise though, the silence ensued as they were confused of what to do. If they agree, that would mean that they too agree with the death sentence that was decided on Ivan's father._

 _The landlord gestured the executioner to continue. With a renewed energy, the beatings continue. "And now, I'm going to execute this man responsible for planting these impossible thoughts into your feeble brains."_

 _The crowd remained unresponsive. The landlord scratched the skin under his beard uncomfortably.._

" _Come on say it. Say beat him, beat him to death."_

 _Unwillingly, someone started saying the sickening words, leading the others to follow, and finally, more and more were muttering it like a mindless chant._

" _Beat him to death. Beat him to death."_

 _Staring at the guilt ridden and despair face of the villagers, Ivan begged: "No. No. You don't mean it. Save him please."_

 _No one heard._

" _We can overthrow the landlord instead."_

 _No one heard_

" _We have more people on our side."_

 _No one heard. His puny voice was drowned in the other's that were getting louder and raised his voice in hope that the adults would finally see the logic behind this._

" _Please. Anyone. Listen to me!"_

 _Still, no one heard._

 _He screamed as the last resort. "Save him! Hurry or my papa will die!"_

" _Ivan! Stop it!" It was his mother. She put her cold hands over his mouth, they covered half of his small face. Her pale fingers, blue with the frigid weather, muted his earnest pleading._

 _Ivan watched afar as his father's eyes clouded, when all life has left the men's body._

" _Ivan look, he is gone. He is gone! How could it be?" Ivan's mother voice was suddenly hysterical and she broke down into tears. "No! No! No!"_

 _The abruptness of the outburst took Ivan by surprise, which was more so when his mother embraced him. Unlike the usual warmth and tenderness in the hugs when she was fondling over him, this time, his mother's clutched at him tightly and her strength overwhelmed him, they strangled his small being, obstinately refusing to let go._

" _Ivan. There's only you and me now." Her voice had a sore, wispy quality. It might be Ivan's imagination, but the words carried a threatening note to it._

 _/_

 _Since the drama of the execution, Irunya cried in her room every night. For a period, Ivan hated the painful wailings and tried to block them out. But after some time, he adapted to them and felt that Irunya needed him. He tried to reach out for her but she determined to act like there was nothing wrong if he do so._

 _He knew his mother was acting strong for his sake but he could not bear her rejection. Their relationship deteriorated by day. But even that was a one sided feeling, she did not acknowledge her misfortunes and averted her eyes to them so convincingly that Ivan wanted to believe in it._

 _He hated her; he loved her._

 _He doesn't care for her; she was important to him._

 _She was a terrible mother; she was a caring mother._

 _She acted like this because she's a selfish jerk; she acted like this because she didn't want him to worry._

 _Ivan was undetermined of what to think about his mother, the means of defining what her existence drove him crazy. The clashing ideas were accompanied by the turbulent of sentiments, breaking Ivan's delicate heart. He was trapped in a never ending battle against himself._

 _Irunya was right, she only had Ivan and her to him. Ivan was doomed to be trapped in this miserable loophole of hate and love if his mother does not cease her mourning._

 _Irunya always prepared an extra bowl if she made borsch, setting an extra chair even they didn't need it, cleaning his father's clothes fondly as if the wearer wasn't dead. There were very weird behaviours, but Ivan accepted them without questioning, persuading himself it was all a part of her mourning._

 _Flirting with madness was one thing, but it was another when it started to flirt back._

 _Irunya started whispering the village's gossip to his father's chair, keeping the imaginary husband updated with news she heard from the fields._

" _Husband. Ivan is back."_

 _Ivan can see it that she was already beyond saving._

 _/_

 **Very, very sorry for the late update. Thank you so much for being so patient. And thank you so much for the reviews. Please expect further progress to be somewhat, as slow as now. Sorry…**

 **Historical notes:**

 **1-Drowning in pig baskets were a common punishment for those who commit adultery in China.**

 **2- Russia had a hierarchical system somewhat familiar to the European feudal system. Russian serfs were also agricultural labourers like their western counterparts. The system started somewhere around the 11** **th** **century and became a dominant form of relation between peasants and nobles in the 17** **th** **century. (Russian landowners were considered minor nobles)**

 **Some Tsars had taken measures to give serfs their freedom in the mid 16** **th** **but majority of the serfs were unaffected, not until Tsa** r **Alexander II abolished the system in 1861. Though after the** **emancipation reform** **of** **1861, landless former serfs remained poor and were deeply in debt to pay their taxes.**


End file.
